In which...

...we are all really, really happy to be exactly where we are.

In which...

...girl digs for Monhegan clams whilst within giant heart.

In which...

...Anna and I are loved up by a draft horse named Scarleg who thinks he's a cat, at the Windsor County Fair in Maine. His owner says that the horse lays right down to take a nap, and he curls up along side him and naps too. More to come...

One last hello before unplugging for a week!

 

 

 

Girl at low tide

Girl at high tide: "Where's the rocks?!"

house sitting

The rain came and went and the cicadas were so loud it felt like they might actually be inside our heads. We ate sun-hot cherry tomatoes by the mouthful, standing at the vine. When I was a kid I used to study and study the seed catalogues and choose as much by name as anything. Blood Gulch, Valhalla, Summer Cider, Fireworks, Eva's Purple Ball, Radiator Charlie's Mortgage Lifter....

A house where the outside is a part of the inside is a good kind of house to be in.

Some people came to visit. We made a lot of kale slaw. We shucked a lot of corn. We ate and ate and ate.

And mostly, we were here.

August begins...

Little girl, big wind.

Climber, with three-legged dog.

Prairie.

36-hour-playdate

 Kindred spirits, circa 1982.

30 years later: kin of kindred spirits, kindred spirits too.

It was beyond lovely to have Libby and Anya here for a 36-hour-straight-playdate. Here's some of what happened: hotel-bed jumping, clothes-swapping, watercolor-face-painting, sculpture-scaling, building-climbing, bike rack-hurdling, plates of pasta bigger than our heads, late-night milkshakes from a building no wider than my wingspan, mandolin-music-dancing, sprinkler-jumping, and dinosaur bones. Anya gave Anna the socks right off her feet. Such a gift to get be mamas together for a day and a half, after all these years, to watch our girls and laugh our heads off and talk and talk and talk, just exactly like we did way back when.